Angel kicked a rock that was in his way. The rock soon found itself imbedded in a sewer wall. He was pissed. That bitch lied to him! He threatened her with pliers and everything! "Humph!" He sneered "Potential threat' my ass!" Angel dearly wanted to go back to Wolfram and Hart's offices to show Morgan Walker exactly why it was a bad idea to tell him she had no interest in someone, then kidnap said someone's father. But rescuing Keith Mars took precedence over hurting stupid women who didn't understand why they shouldn't piss off vampires. To be fair, he didn't have any proof she was involved, but who else would want to kidnap the father of a potential champion? Other than people he may have angered in his P.I. biz that is. Angel considered the likelihood of this being some kind of revenge thing aimed at Mars Investigation's, but dismissed it as the kidnappers were demons. Having gotten his anger under control, he went up through the sewer entrance of the hotel.
-
The first thing Angel noticed when he entered the basement was the smell of blood. Familiar blood. He ran up the stairs as fast as he could, only to find a disaster area. The floors were cracked, walls had holes in them, and the front counter would never be the same again. But worst of all, Willow was lying on the floor, her face was a bloody mess with her head in Xander's lap as he called 911.
"Oh God! What happened?" the vampire demanded, running up to see if he could help. Xander put his hand up in response and continued telling the emergency operator their location. When he was done he turned a grim eye to his host's worried face.
"Hi Angel. Nice place you have here. I particularly like the front counter. It felt nice and solid when I slammed into it. Good craftsmanship." He looked down at Willow, "There's good news and bad news. The bad news is that Willow is unconscious and bleeding. The good news is it seems to be Fred that did the beating."
Angel was confused. And somewhat angry. "Fred's dead. That was Illyria. But why would she...?" He trailed off, remembering he and Spike's previous conversation concerning the former god king's odd behavior. "What did Willow say to her?" Misinterpreting the question as Angel trying to blame Willow, Xander started to defend her. Angel rephrased the question before the young watcher could get going. "Did Willow call her Fred?"
Xander paused and then, unbelievably, giggled. "Yeah. The first time Will called her that, Ms. Destructo USA took offense and tried to take her out. But instead she got rebounded off of a force field and shot out of that room over there." he gestured to Angel's office, "Then she slammed into Spike at, like, mach 8, knocking him right the frak out."
O.K. That really was funny. Angel would definitely have to remind Spike of it in the future. "Where is he anyway?" he asked, looking around.
"He went off to follow What's-Her-Name to make sure she didn't hurt anyone else."
"Her name's Fred." Willow piped in weakly from the floor.
Xander smiled and stroked her bloody face. "Hey buddy. Quite the scare you gave me. Us." He amended with a quick glance at Angel.
Angel grasped her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Don't try to move. Xander's called an ambulance, and it should be here any second now."
"Oh. Good. Then I guess it's O.K. if I pass out again?"
Xander shook his head. "Sorry Will. I don't think that's such a hot idea. You might have a concussion. Why don't you amuse Angel with the rousing tale of how you came to be resting so comfortably instead?"
And she did. Apparently, Illyria/Fred didn't take the news of having a soul so well. She lashed out in what Willow called fright. Xander called it: "An angry hissy fit of destruction." Willow theorized that Illyria was scared of what having Fred's soul would mean for her, and lashed out at the messenger. Of course, that meant hitting Willow in the face so fast she couldn't put up a reflective shield. And knocking Xander into a counter. And trying to mash Spike into little pieces when he tried reasoning with her. Then she ran off.
Before Angel could ask any questions, the paramedics arrived. As they loaded Willow into the ambulance, Angel took Xander aside.
"Listen. There's a situation that I could use your help on."
Xander was taken aback. On one hand, it was flattering for someone like Angel to be asking him for help. On the other hand, Willow was hurt and he didn't want to leave her alone. Willow was, of course, more important. "Look, I don't think I can do anything while Willow's hurt. Sorry."
Angel shook his head. "I'm not asking you to leave her by herself. One of my friends is in the hospital too. I'll meet you there so I can explain what's going on. Deal?"
Xander shrugged. "Sure. Why the heck not?"
-
"You know," Wallace started when Veronica came back into his room, "when you went for coffee, I didn't think you meant in Mexico."
"Sorry Wallace. I didn't realize my Dad getting kidnapped would take so long." She replied acidly.
"Woah! What?" That he was not expecting.
"Are you up for leaving the room?" She asked instead of explaining. "We need to go. I'll tell you what's up when everybody's there."
"Everybody who?" Wallace practically begged as he got out of bed. "And where are we going?" Confusion and anxiety were setting in. "You did just say your father got kidnapped, right?"
"Yup. Typical Dad behavior. And my week was going so well too."
Veronica had been through so much in her life, and now she had to deal with this? Screw that! Wallace headed for the door, determined to do everything he could to save Mr. Mars. "Don't worry Veronica. We'll get to the bottom of this."
"That's sweet of you to say Wallace, but don't you think it would be better for us all if you put some pants on first?" Veronica asked him, taking in his patient's gown.
-
Spike kept going over what Willow said in his head while he did his best to track Illyria. Fred was still alive! Merged with an Old One to be more accurate. Still, it was better than "burned in the fires of my resurrection" any day. Spike had only known the lady for a period of four months. And most of that time he was incorporeal. Not exactly a good way to start a friendship. But they did. Spike was touched by how fiercely Fred tried to restore him. They had spent a lot of time together while she worked on a way to fix him. Had a lot of conversations. Angel hated him, Lorne was too busy, Wesley was too wary of him to be friendly, and Gunn flat out didn't trust him. (The less said about Harmony the better.) They didn't go out of their way to be rude, except Angel of course, but they didn't go out of their way to be friends either. Not like Fred. She was the only person who didn't judge him on his reputation. She talked with him like he was a person, and he loved her for that.
Fred was the first person since he DIED he thought of as a friend. As a soulless vampire he was incapable really, of having such attachments. After he got his soul, there was too much bad blood to befriend the Scoobies. He would've liked the opportunity to get to know a few of them. Dawn for one. But he thought it unlikely, what with the threat of waking up on fire and all that. Anya and he could relate to each other on a former evil demons level, but she didn't make it out of Sunnydale. Tara was always looking to the good in people and would've given him a chance, but she died before he got his soul. Fred reminded him of Tara a little. They seemed shy at first, but once you looked past that, you got to see the strength they possessed.
When Illyria consumed Fred, Spike couldn't, in all honesty, remember ever feeling as miserable as he did. Not even when Drusilla left him did he feel so sad. The one good thing he could say about her apparent death was that he regained his appreciation for life. Silly as that sounds, he started to understand what he sang to Buffy that night. What every human instinctively knows: Life is worth living. So he should live.
And he did. To the best of his undead ability. He played his X-box with a renewed vigor. Making Angel's unlife a living hell was merely fun and games before, now it's become a holy quest to make the most of his existence. He's started to enjoy poetry again. Even going so far as to recite some of his own poems live at a biker poetry bar. The biggest change though, is that he has reached a greater understanding of what it is to be a champion. At first it was mostly something he said he was to piss Angel off. But Fred, like Buffy before her, saw in him the potential to be a real one.
Fred once told him why she worked so hard to make him corporeal. She said it was because he was worth saving. Looking at her, he saw that she meant every word of it. Spike will spend the rest of his days trying be worthy of such sentiment.
That day, he saved her life from that spook bastard Pavayne. Spike hoped he could save her again. This time by getting her to accept who and what she is now. A demon with a soul.
Spike smiled as he caught sight of her. He had a little experience with that kind of situation.
-
"Leave vampire. I wish to be alone." Illyria had sensed Spike's presence long before she stopped to stare out over Los Angeles. She was on the rooftop of Wesley's apartment. This was the place he brought her when she became too uncomfortable enclosed in the walls that humanity was so fond of.
He smirked as he walked up next to her. "If that were the case love, I never would have found you." Illyria spun and glared at him. Spike was quick to raise his hands in surrender. "No need for violence, I have absolutely no desire to get pummeled by my best friend."
Illyria froze. He dared to assume intimacy with her? She moved to strike the insolent half-breed. Pet or no, Illyria could not tolerate such an insult. But she held back. She couldn't hit him. Why? Why couldn't she? Had someone been so foolish in the past they, and everyone they knew, would be removed from time itself so as not to offend again. But she could not bring herself to hit Spike? A meager leech worth no more notice and affection than an ant that performed well in it's duties! How low she has become.
And yet ... somehow, she felt ... affinity? She did! She felt affinity for the vampire half-breed! She looked at Spike's face. It was full of concern. For her? There was love, affection, things she only recognized because of the fragments, the memories of Winifred Burkle. An image came, unbridled, of Roger Burkle. He wore the same look as Spike. It was from when she seven and she fell off of the shed in the backyard and broke her leg. Her father picked her up and even though she was hurt, she knew she was going to be all right.
NO! That never happened to her! She was Illyria! Not some worthless, pathetic shell of a girl incapable of containing her essence! Illyria collapsed. That was it. It was then that the soul of this weak creature gained purchase on her being. The diminishing of her power was more destructive than she realized. Without the full fury of Illyria, Fred's soul gained the ability to influence her existence. It was then that she began to look upon the forms of Fred's comrades as though they were anything but inferior. And it was then that she began to see Wesley as more than just her Qwa'ha Xhan.
"You will not make me weak!" She shouted, getting to her feet. "I would kill you first!" And she punched him. But punch she threw was desperate, slow, and Spike was able to dodge it easily.
"Illyria listen to me! I know what you're going through. Me and Angel both. We can help you adjust." Spike deflected another weak blow. "Having a soul doesn't make you weak." He said passionately, "It makes you stronger."
"HOW! How is feeling like this strength?" Illyria demanded, "These emotions, these thoughts? They distract me. Cause me to fail in my desire to kill you."
"Well," Spike said, "can't say I'm to disappointed with that."
Illyria continued to attack him, all the while screaming the inadequacies of mankind. In her rage, she was like a trapped bear. Strong, fast, deadly, and wild. Spike, despite having a clearer head, was being driven back. Truthfully there was little he could do anyway. He didn't want to hit her, and he certainly didn't want to get hit in return. Illyria saw his hesitance, and took advantage of it. Working her way into his defenses and striking him hard. Hard enough that he was knocked over the edge of the roof.
"SPIKE!" She shrieked. Illyria ran over to the edge and her friend hanging on for dear life. Not that the fall would kill him, but it definitely wouldn't tickle.
Spike looked up. "Any help would not be unappreciated."
Illyria did nothing. She simply stared at Spike. A combination of horror and fascination on her face. Then she vanished, leaving Spike to pull himself up. Of course, by the time he managed to do so, she was gone.
Spike lit up a cigarette and headed back to the hotel.
